Wednesday, August 24, 2016

House maid gets spanked multiple times

“What are you doing?” Eric asked, his voice crackling through the hollowed echo of a hands-free microphone.

“Just driving home from class,” Amy said drearily. Summer had slipped away and school was back in session.

Thursday night had finally come to an end and she was wiped out. Work, school, the house… she was on her own as he was gone for months at a time; struggling to pave the way for a better life. He would be back but not anytime soon and they both longed desperately to be in each other’s arms; to melt away the exhaustion of doing too much, the stress of being alone, the pain of being apart.

“Are you still keeping up with everything?” he inquired. “Work, school, house… you got it all under control?”

She bit her lip and tried to avoid the question. He certainly had enough on his plate and didn’t need to know she was slowly but surely losing all sense of balance.

“Amy Lynn?” he asked, breaking her train of thought. “Are you there?”

“Oh. Yes!” she remarked. “It’s all good. I got this. You know I do. Everything is ship shape.”

The lights on the freeway blurred and the rhythm under the tires, riding low on cracked pavement, rocked her in the driver’s seat. The nightly 45 minute drive was mundane and routine after two years of classes. Frequently she’d be pulling into her garage not remembering anything between the freeway and the exit, not to mention the winding side streets to their home.

Eyes half open, brain half functioning, Amy finally turned down their block and pulled up to the house. Suddenly, her foot hit the brake and she lurched forward, two lights shining on his car in the driveway. Eric was back.

The surge of butterflies flapping excitedly in her stomach catapulted her from the car and she raced toward the door, flung it open and ran into the house.

“You’re here!!!!” she yelled, spying his silhouette in the partially lit kitchen. Eric stood tall and handsome, bright blue eyes, smile glowing and strong arms reaching out to her. She leaped into his grasp, wrapped her legs around his middle, arms around his neck and lips all over his mouth, his cheeks, his face. Grinning, he stepped back against the center island and allowed her to embrace his entire being with every ounce of strength she could muster. It had been way too long. They held on, breathing in each other’s scent, tasting of each other's tongue, and touching all over each other's body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Eric said between kisses. “I didn’t even wait for my suitcase to come off the ramp. I just jumped in the car and drove until I got here. I couldn’t wait to be home.”

Happiness flowed over Amy – his voice filling her ears, his hands feeling her body and her eyes slowing scanning his face, his lips, his shoulders, the counter, the floor, the room and then, in horror, the dishes piled high in the sink, her laundry all over the couch in the living room and the stack of school books dripping down the stairs. Her mind raced. Her body tensed. Slowly, she released her grip around his middle and put her feet back on the floor. The change in her physical aura, her passion, her focus, was clear.

Eric stopped, gently grasping her face in his hands and asked, “Are you not happy to see me?”

Amy swallowed and her lower lip began to quiver as her eyes weld up with tears. “I didn’t clean the house,” she spat out. “I told you I have everything under control but I'm an M-E-S-S when you're away. I think I lied to you… by accident for real!”

Eric's face relaxed and he couldn’t help but laugh at the childlike reaction to her epiphany.

“Well, young lady,” he stated as matter-of-fact as he could, “that you did and we will address this tomorrow,” he added, turning her toward the door and swatting her behind in a playful warning. “But for now, I just want to hold you all night.”

They climbed the stairs and after tossing a hundred pillows off the bed, crawled between the sheets and made love until they couldn't stay awake a moment longer.

Morning came, pasty and white, like a dream weaving in and out of her mind. Had Eric really come back? Was he really there? Amy's foot moved across the sheets in search of his warmth but found nothing but a wad of comforter, a couple of pillows, and an old sock. It had seemed so real. She rolled to her side and blinked away hours of sleep. She squinted toward a clock that read 1:22 pm.

“Good morning, Sweet Pea,” his sexy voice rang from the doorway. “Or should I say, good afternoon?”

There he was; bright and tanned, smiling and happy- that amazing man who kept her glowing and alive with his playful creativity and supportive attitude. Nobody had ever loved her for who she was the way he did. Relief and excitement rang over her and she held out her hands, beckoning him back to bed.

“No way, Amy Lynn,” his tone stern and solid. “Apparently, we have an issue to discuss from last night. Do you recall?”

Her face went scarlet and the heat of the moment swept over her body. She gulped past her nerves and sat up, quickly concocting a list of excuses for the “little white lie” and state of disarray in the house.

“I promised to keep you on track,” Eric said, voice strong and unwavering. “We agreed that I would keep you accountable and this house was part of that commitment. I've let you down by being away but now I'm home and we are gong to take care of business beginning now.”

Again, her face deepened with a red flush as he scolded and chastised her. Her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat as the moisture between her legs slowly started to build. He epitomized safety and that security that only comes with a partner completely trusted and caring. Her vulnerability rose as her breathing became shallow.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked, small girl voice and a modest pout crossing her pale pink lips.

“Oh yes,” came the quick reply. “So, this is how it’s going to go. YOU are going to get your sleepy self out of bed and put this on.”

With that, he laid at her feet a French Maid outfit, complete with black mini skirt, white apron, collared shirt and feather duster.

“You’ll then go from room to room and clean as quickly and completely as you possibly can; while I time your progress. Once I assess and approve the job, you will receive a spanking equal to the number of minutes you took to clean the room- with an implement of your choosing from that room. Then, we’ll move onto the next, and the next, until the entire house is clean.”

He paused to give her a moment to let the game sink in.

“Wear the outfit, every room. Clean, every room. Spanking, every room. How many rooms are in this house?” she wondered, suddenly unable to remember what her own home looked like.

“Well?” he demanded, that adorable evil glint in his eye.

Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded and reached for the clothes. Skipping past him, she stepped back to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, when the sharp smack of his palm across her bottom filled the room.

“No time for kisses, Sweetie,” he teased. “The clock starts now.”

Seven minutes later, his naughty girl emerged from the bathroom dressed for day. Her toe nails were painted red and peeked out from bare feet. Long muscular legs, silky smooth and lightly tanned stretched out beneath the frilly black skirt; white apron pressed flat and tied in a bow around her waist. The collared shirt, also perfectly pressed, revealed a sprinkling of freckles between her breasts and she held the purple feather duster in her right hand.

“There aren’t any panties,” she said, noticing he had moved from the doorway to the black spanking chair they had in front of the bedroom window.

“I’m aware of that,” he said, still not breaking character with an all-business aura about him. “It took you seven minutes to get dressed,” he stated, tapping his lap and motioning for her to move closer. “We can use that number to discuss your lying to me about everything being ship shape last night.”

A wave of anticipation, fear and excitement rolled from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head. She flushed. She wavered. She stalled. Their eyes locked and the air in the room dared not move. A tiny bead of sweat formed on her neck and rolled down her spine as she found herself kneeling before him, head down, eyes pleading upward, apologetic and full of remorse.

“I’m sorry I lied,” she whispered and he swept her up, across his knee, hand on the small of her back as he slowly raised the skirt above her cheeks.

“Count,” he commanded, and the first slap came down swift and hard across her left side.

“One!” she squealed, shocked at the force he displayed as her body fell forward and her hands landed in front, catching the floor.

“Two, three, four….seven”

She was suddenly turned back on her knees, his hand grasping her hair, pulling her face to his,lips pressed on lips, mouths dancing, breathing enhanced and his searing hand print lying red across her cheeks.

She reached for an embrace but he pushed her back and grinning, waved a scolding finger at her face.

“You’ve got a house to clean,” he warned, pulling her away from him and pointing her in the direction of the kitchen. “The clock starts now.”

The sink was atrocious and she truly wondered if there was a clean dish anywhere in the place. Plates clattered, glasses clinked, water sprayed and soap lathered. He stood by, watching her scramble, enjoying her features; the blue of her eyes, the blonde streaks in her hair, the pink hue in her face. He grabbed a can of Lemon Pledge and went to work on the table, chairs and bar stools. She wiped down the counters, dumped the trash and swept the floor. One quick swipe down the refrigerator door and she turned with a flourish announcing its completeness.

“Twelve minutes. Choose your weapon.” He couldn’t help but grin when he said it.

She swallowed and biting her lower lip, revealed a flat wooden cheese board that rested comfortably next to the refrigerator. He motioned for her to come around the center island and taking the handle, bent her over a bar stool, again raising her skirt and exposing two white cheeks. One swat to the left side and a red outline formed.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve cleaned this kitchen in a week,” he said landing another smack in exactly the same spot. “Afraid you’re going to feel this one for awhile.” He paused for nothing, rained all twelve on her left side and perfected a quick flick of the wrist that sent stinging chills of heat throughout her body. He could feel the sweat beading up on her back again and the intense reaction caused his pants to bulge. Placing the paddle on the counter, he undid his zipper, and grabbing her hips, centered them before him. Then he pressed a cool hand onto her burning flesh and pushed his burning cock into her melting juices. Deep, straight and long; Eric sent shivers down her spine and causing her to cry out in intense pleasure. Three deep thrusts and he pulled back, helping her to an upright position.

“The clock starts now,” he said, nodding toward the living room.

Dazed and reeling, Amy stumbled into the room and stood for a moment, getting her bearings and clutching the couch for support. Finally, it registered. Laundry, everywhere. She raced to the garage and grabbed a handful of hangers. Back in the living room; folding, hanging, matching socks. Every time she bent down to grab another article of clothing, he caught a glimpse… a curve, a color, a patch. He pulsed and throbbed, ached to have her, entirely, crazy with excitement over the curly brown tuft that had manifested while he was away. The build-up became unbearable enough that he slipped into the bathroom and cleaned everything to quiet his body and focus his mind. When he returned to the living room, she had just stuck the last pair of socks in the basket was hurriedly vacuuming neat straight lines across the carpet.

“Nine minutes,” he said, holding out his hand. She scanned the room. A CD case, a small book, a perch from the bird cage. Inhaling deeply, she walked to the stack of hanging clothes and pulled a pink plastic hanger from one of the shirts. Handing him the implement, she placed herself over the back of the couch and raised her skirt, secretly praying he would grant some relief to her left side and focus on the right for a change.

“Ouch,” Amy yelped and stood, grasping her scalding cheeks. Suddenly, there were both laughing at the broken hanger dangling in his grasp.

“Should have gone for the CD case,” he commented, pushing her back over the couch and carrying out the remaining eight with his hand in quick succession.

Again, hair entangled in his fingers, Eric pulled Amy from the couch, past the vacuum and down on the carpet. Her heart was racing, breath labored as he wedged himself between her legs, towering over her body.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growled and grabbing at her shirt, ripped it open, popping one button after the other and revealing her heaving breasts. His mouth on her nipple, sucking hard and deep, his hips grinding into her pelvis, they moved in unison and allowed the passion between them to rise.

“I want you so badly,” Amy said grabbing his hair and pulling him towards her face. “Please. Please. I want you now.”

Their eyes and their breath met and mingled in the space between their faces.

“One more room, darling,” Eric stated, pulling her to her feet and planting a wonderfully slow and solid kiss on her mouth. “I’ll put the vacuum and the clothes away. You hit the bedroom. The clock starts now.”

Ass on fire, butter between her legs, heart pounding… she found herself racing to the bedroom. Books in the backpack, clothes in the hamper, bed made – he was not satisfied. Vacuumed, counters wiped down in the bathroom, make-up put away – still just shook his head. Windows cleaned, dresser straightened – another “no”. She stood at a loss. Everything was put away. Everything was done.

“Seriously, did you forget something?” Eric asked, winking with a devilish sparkle in his eye.

“No,” Amy cried. “I did everything. I made the bed. I vacuumed. I cleaned the windows and I put everything away. I even…” suddenly a huge grin crossed her face and she ran downstairs where she had left the feather duster on the kitchen table. She burst into the room and flitted from vanity to dresser.

“And I dusted!!” she exclaimed.

Eric shook his head, grinned from ear to ear and said, “What the heck did you do to your shirt?”

Amy turned to the mirror and saw the fancy collared shirt that had been so perfectly pressed, hanging button-less, her breasts only partially hidden by the floppy material and her belly ring shining just above her waistline.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Eric said, gently walking her to the bed and pulling two soft pink satin ribbons from his pocket. Carefully, he placed her on her knees facing away from him, removed the tattered shirt and tied her wrists to the headboard. Tucking a number of white fluffy pillows under her torso, he untied the white apron and released the black mini skirt from her hips. A battle field of welts and redness streaked across her cheeks and he gently outlined each mark with his fingers while kissing her hips and back. Taking a moment to check the ties on her wrists, he kissed her lips while removing his clothes. Gathering his favorite strap from the closet, he also retrieved the pink rabbit and a bottle of baby oil. The radio played softly in the background and Eric first massaged her behind with the baby oil, comforting on her wounds from earlier discipline.

'You are getting 15 swats," Eric announced, the strap high overhead and sticking slightly in the oil before pulling away and crashing down for the next strike.

Amy cried out, the pain and passion mingling in intensity, until Eric put down the weapon and inserted the vibrating toy. Massaging her clit with his fingers, he waited until she started to moan and then, releasing one of her hands, allowed her to hold the toy while he used both hands to spread her cheeks wide and place his tip, bareback, inch by inch deeper inside her.

“You were a very bad girl, not keeping up with your housework and then lying to me about it,” Eric scolded, pressing further into her hips and gliding back and forth as her body released to him. “I don’t ever want you to lie to me again,” he growled, pulling the back of her hair right at the base of her neck and increasing his speed as he rode deeper and faster within her.

“I’m so sorry,” Amy panted. “I’m… I’m… I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet,” he commanded. “Not until I say you can.”

Eric slapped her left side one quick time and pressed faster and harder, harder and faster, until her whole body began to shake and a loud carnal yell began to form in her throat.

“NOW!” he yelled.

Amy released until Eric pulsed and pumped every bit of cum, time, frustration and desire they had been holding onto for each other from his body into hers. Exhausted and content, they let the world revolve without them without a care. Nothing mattered beyond that moment.

*Yes, too good to be true. I do start classes again tomorrow and would LOVE for this to be a reality but it's just a fantasy. October 27. Still waiting.

My goodness Amy, ever thought about writing spanking fiction for publication?Hope you are keeping up with all you should be doing at work, in school and in the house while you spend time writing too! Xxxx